


a sense of otherness

by Princex_N



Series: mint and wool sweater and vinyl car seat [1]
Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Ableism, Angst, Autism, Autistic Gansey, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Past Child Abuse, internalized ableism, meltdowns, of a sort, through ABA therapy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-10
Updated: 2016-03-10
Packaged: 2018-05-25 21:13:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6210322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Princex_N/pseuds/Princex_N
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>Gansey was trained to sit still and he became quite adept at the practice of lying and faking. </em>
  <br/>
  <em>So he lies and tells himself that it is necessary and it is worth it, and he swallows back exhaustion and hides it away with his truths. </em>
</p><hr/><p>a different ending to the party at the Gansey house in The Dream Thieves.</p>
            </blockquote>





	a sense of otherness

**Author's Note:**

> i made a post about autistic gansey [here](http://princex-n.tumblr.com/post/140711019123/autistic-gansey).  
> i love him, he is my autistic son.

Richard Campbell Gansey the third is a liar. 

Lying was a skill ingrained in him from an early age. The Gansey family had a reputation to uphold, and no amount of his parents' pretty words and polite smiles could hide the fact that a son who rocks and flaps his hands and has dismal social skills doesn't fit into their idea of that reputation. 

So Gansey was trained to sit still and he became quite adept at the practice of lying and faking. 

So he lies and tells himself that it is necessary and it is worth it, and he swallows back exhaustion and hides it away with his truths. 

-

Richard Campbell Gansey the third is fucking tired. 

Seventeen years and you'd think he'd be used to it, but he is not, apparently, as used to it as he needs to be. 

This party is important, he tells himself, because it is. It's important to his parents and they'll be upset if he "acts out" and so he keeps a smile plastered on his face and keeps his tone light, and tries not to look at Adam. 

Adam is allowed to wear his discomfort on his sleeve, because  _his_ discomfort is understandable, acceptable. 

Gansey's is not, and he knows that if he focuses too hard on Adam, then he'll start to feel something stupid, like jealousy. 

It feels particularly fucked to be jealous of a kid in Adam's situation, and so Gansey pretends that he doesn't feel anything of the sort. 

He also pretends that he's normal. Pretends that he doesn't feel exhaustion threatening to swallow  _him_ , as he puts another mint leaf in his mouth and tries to focus on the taste of it on his tongue and the texture of it between his teeth, instead of the overwhelming task at hand.

Proper Gansey's do not get "overwhelmed" and so Gansey pretends that he doesn't either. 

Adam is starting to look increasingly more uncomfortable, and just because he shows it "acceptably" does not mean it's an acceptable emotion. 

"Having fun?" Gansey asks, forcing words out of his throat, pretending that they don't weigh a hundred pounds on his tongue. He pushes himself up an unnoticeable few centimeters (he'd checked in the mirror), to feel the pressure of his weight on his toes. 

The look on Adam's face says that Gansey's facade is crumbling, so Gansey smiles broader to compensate. 

Because Gansey is a liar and this is what he does. 

Still, he chokes. 

Talking to Mrs. Elgin, and who should approach but Gansey's mother? Gansey usually tries to avoid his parents at these parties, no one is more aware of his shortcomings than they, because they know what to look for. 

"You must be off to college soon?" Elgin asks, and Gansey flashes a smile. 

"Well, it-" his words slide away from his tongue, falling back down his throat as his mind blanks for a terrifying moment. He can't remember the words to the answer, he cannot even remember the question that was asked. His eyes falls from Elgin's because they are suddenly too much to deal with, everything has suddenly become too much to deal with, he-

is still in front of people. 

"I'm sorry, I thought I saw someone." He forces out, he feels phantom hands on the side of his face, forcing his eyes meet Elgin's once more, as if they had never left. He tries to pretend he cannot see his mother in his peripheral vision.

He's crumbling, he needs to leave. 

"Oh, I  _do_ see someone. I must leave you." he tries not to feel guilty for pushing this on to Adam, fails, and then does it anyway. "I'm sorry," he says, the words are for Adam although he directs them at the women, "But I'll leave you with- Mrs. Elgin, this is my friend Adam Parrish." 

Adam looks blank and anxious, and the moment Elgin's eyes leave Gansey's and shift to Adam's, Gansey flees.

He hopes his mother hadn't noticed, but he knows that she had. She always notices. 

He has to get out. He cannot be here right now. These lights are too bright, these voices are too loud, there are too many smells of the different foods, even the usually comforting taste of mint in his mouth feels sharp and painful. 

He has to get out. 

He makes it to a doorway, he still doesn't quite know where he's trying to go, when the lights turn off. 

He freezes, and his initial reaction is relief. His eyes no longer ache, that is one problem solved, one piece of the mask slid back in place. He tries to get control of his breathing, while he has the chance to.

Then he hears the voice. 

The lights turn back on, and Gansey's eyes meet Adams from across the room. 

-

It takes longer than Gansey would like to get away from the crowd.

He wants to feel relief, but can't, because Adam will want to talk about what just happened and Gansey feels too weighed down to even think properly, much less hold another conversation.

But the problem with lying for seventeen years is that he doesn't know how to stop anymore. 

Not until he falls apart completely. 

His hands shake as they loosen his tie, which has been slowly strangling him for the better part of the last several hours. He tries not to feel the way his shirt rubs against his sides, tries not to feel the constraining discomfort of these dress shoes that are so unlike his usual boat shoes that Blue hates, tries not to think about what his mother will do about earlier's slip up.

Tries not to  _think_. 

It doesn't seem to be working. 

He tries to make it appear casual as he sinks to the floor, pushing his back against the wall until he aches from the pressure, and clenches his hands into fists to keep them still. 

Adam says something, and Gansey does not understand a word of it. Adam's voice slides through Gansey's ears but doesn't stick to anything. 

He opens his mouth to ask Adam to repeat himself, and his throat locks. There are no words for him to use, he left them all downstairs. 

He raises his hands and presses them against his eyes, acutely aware of the hitching of his breath and his inability to do anything about it anymore.

Adam says something else, his hand finds Gansey's shoulder, and Gansey thinks, _"I can't do this. This can't be happening."_ but he flinches away and biting down on his tongue is not enough to stop a pained noise from vibrating up his throat. 

He realizes that he's rocking back and forth, and Gansey recalls hands on his shoulders forcing his back against a chair, remembers straps on the chairs, remembers being pinned under adults that want him still and he  _tries_ to still, but the memories are only distressing him  _more_ , and that means that his body rocks more and the cycle continues until Gansey realizes that there are wet tears being smeared across his face, realizes that his breath is coming in wheezy little pants.

At least, he thinks distantly, he isn't making any noise. 

The only clear voice in the hallway is Adam's, high pitched and panicked, and Gansey tries to remember if Adam has ever seen this, and realizes that the answer is no. Ronan, and possibly Noah, are the only ones of Gansey's friends that have seen this. 

And now Adam as well. Gansey tries to choke back shame. Seventeen years, he should be over this by now. 

He doesn't think about it, but his hands comes up anyway, the heel of his palm smashes against his forehead once, twice, before there are frantic footsteps and Adam's hand catches his mid-strike and Gansey can't swallow the wounded noise that he makes. 

He knows better than to try and get the grip off of him, so he doesn't try at all. He leaves his wrist limp in Adam's hand, and ties to cut off the keening noise he's making. 

Then, Adam presses something against the hand that he's still holding, and it takes Gansey's trembling fingers a while to recognize the leather of his journal. 

Gansey doesn't open his eyes, but he makes a low noise of want and tries to grab it. Adam lets go of his wrist, and Gansey pulls the book towards himself, pressing it carefully against his face.

He breathes in and it is a proper breath, taking in the soothing and familiar scent of paper and glue and ink. The leather is cool and worn soft against his cheek. Time passes, and Gansey is too exhausted to care about anything but the comforting feel of his notebook and the knowledge that it and its information is safe, and not taken away from him. 

Time passes and Gansey opens his eyes, shifting the journal down so that he can get a good look at Adam.

Adam is wide-eyed, tense and anxious, and when he sees that Gansey's eyes have opened, his breath leaves him in a sigh of relief. 

"Are you okay?" he asks, voice pitched low and soft. 

Gansey is tired. He nods anyway, curling his heavy limbs around himself tighter and pressing the notebook against his nose, breathes in the smell of it again. 

His mom is going to want him to go back downstairs, the night isn't over yet, after all. 

He starts to brace himself, and finds that he can't. Adam shakes his head firmly, "Come with me." he whispers. 

Gansey is tired. Tired tired tired. He's not entirely certain that he can stand on his own. Even raising a hand is almost too much effort.

Adam hesitates, "Is it alright to touch you?"

Gansey nods, makes no attempt to speak. Opening his mouth takes too much effort, the concept of forming audible words is impossible. 

Adam grasps his hand carefully, and hauls Gansey to his feet. Gansey stumbles, but flinches away from the hand that attempts to steady him. 

This isn't okay. He shouldn't be acting like this, especially not in front of Adam. 

"It's okay," Adam whispers, and Gansey nods thoughtlessly, feeling oddly small. Adam tries to pull his hand back, but Gansey tightens his grip, mentally blaming the show of neediness on the exhaustion. 

Adam leads Gansey to a room, closing the door behind them and enclosing them in darkness, finally shutting out the remnants of conversations from downstairs.

Anxiety is starting to push its way through the haze of exhaustion. 

"Did anyone see?" Gansey asks, and then wonders if the words were even intelligble. The syllables tasted slurred on his tongue. 

"No. No one came upstairs," Adam says, "No one saw." He pauses, "I called Ronan, he told me what to do. He told me..." 

Gansey nods, eyes slipping shut again, he can't think of anything to say, so he says nothing. He's not upset, it was good thinking, Ronan has dealt with this before and Adam has not. He would have preferred it if Adam didn't know, but it was only a matter of time.

Gansey isn't quite ashamed, but he gets the sense that he should be. 

"We should talk about this tomorrow." Adam declares, and Gansey nods as enthusiastically as he can manage. Words have once again escaped him, he doesn't feel like they'll be back any time soon. 

Adam says something, and Gansey only properly catches the word "bed", and shakes his head. He doesn't want it, and he knows that Adam will manage to read it as pity, but that isn't it. Sometimes even the bed, mattress sheets blankets pillows, are too much input and Gansey is tired and he doesn't want it. Can feel under his skin that the bed is no good tonight. 

"Floor is better, now." He manages to rasp, placing the journal carefully on the floor at the foot of the bed. Adam tries to protest, but Gansey ignores him, focuses instead of removing his shoes, his jacket, the button-up shirt, his pants, until he is standing in only his boxers and a white undershirt. 

As he sprawls out on the floor, pressing his cheek against the leather of the journal once more, he hears his cell phone ringing. He should probably get it, it's probably important, but his limbs are full of lead and he doesn't move. Adam answers it instead. 

"What? No, he's okay, he calmed down... No, Ronan... shut up." Adam says, his voice is quiet and steady, and Gansey allows the soothing sound of it to drag him down into sleep. 

**Author's Note:**

> EDIT: oh my goodness!!! tumblr user [scientiafantasia](http://scientiafantasia.tumblr.com/) drew fanart for this?! And it's _amazing_ , [LOOK AT IT](http://scientiafantasia.tumblr.com/post/155361344874/gansey-boy-from-princex-ns-fic)!!!  
>   
> [my tumblr](http://www.princex-n.tumblr.com)


End file.
